Uncomfortable Comfort
by your-lie-in-september
Summary: Alfred's had a rough week and he ends up finding comfort from the least likely of people. Belarus and America friendship or BelAme if you really squint. Human names used. Contains self harm.


**Disclaimer: Я не з'яўляюся ўладальнікам Hetalia.**

Uncomfortable Comfort

"Meeting adjourned."

Alfred sighed and sank in his chair as other nations began to pack and leave. He was vaguely aware of Arthur stowing away his laptop and notebook into a brown, leather bag. And, he was also aware of him and Francis exchanging knowing glances to each other.

It had been a rough week for Alfred. There had been a controversial bill being heatedly debated in Washington D.C., an oil spill on the west coast, setbacks in the Middle East, and pressure from all over the world.

"Chin up lad," England said, nudging the American gently.

Alfred let out a grunt as he began to pack his things.

"Ah, _Amérique_ how we grab a bite to eat?" France asked, trying to distract the younger nation from his problems. "I know a nice restaurant not too far from here."

Alfred winced visibly as Francis said this causing the Frenchman and the Briton to exchange glances again.

"I'll pass," America muttered to himself rubbing his arms gingerly. "I've got plans later."

England pursed his lips, his eyes full of concern. He glanced over at France who also seemed to doubt the American's excuse.

"Okay, America," England said. "But remember that we're always here to talk if you need it."

The pair made their way out the doors leaving Alfred by himself. There was a deep part of Alfred that wished that they had stayed, Arthur and Francis, not England and France. It was the human parts of his friends that he loved and tolerated the most. The nation parts could be ruthless, cold…leaving him numb.

He sighed as he reluctantly got out of his chair. Despite all the pressure and stress on him these days, he didn't feel anything.

And, that scared him.

He didn't feel the joy of being one with his people. He couldn't feel their pain and sadness. It was gone. He knew it was still there but, it was subdued beneath his surface.

 _"Fat ass."_

 _"Obnoxious hero."_

 _"That idiot thinks he can the save the world."_

 _"It's like every time we see him, he gets fatter!"_

 _"He's an overgrown kid. He'll never grow up. How did he even get this far anyways?"_

 _"Immature, incompetent, inconsiderate, irresponsible."_

But one thing he could feel was _his_ pain. It was all he ever felt anymore. But, everyone assumed that it didn't bother him just because he flashed a Hollywood smile and laughed it off.

He walked out of the room and made his way down the hall. There were still many nations lingering, speaking in hushed tones occasionally looking up as he passed by. He pursed looks and avoided looking at them. All he could remember when he looked at them was their words.

He ignored them and eventually made his way to the elevator choosing the floor leading to the rooftop.

He loved going up to the roof. The feeling of looking down on the rest of the world and the rush of wind made him feel like he was flying. It made him feel free.

Alfred made his way to the ledge of and building and took a seat. He sat his bag beside him and unrolled his sleeves.

 _'What am I doing up here?' he wondered to himself._

He looked down at his forearm, covered in jagged, red scars. They were covered his arm sporadically in all direction. New scars covered old scars leaving his arm a bright red and sticky from the drying blood.

He took out a pocket knife from his bag and took a deep deliberate cut on his arm. The gash caused blood to blossom atop the surface of his skin.

He admired his handiwork for a moment, studying the fresh blood with a morbid fascination. It didn't hurt anymore. When he first started the cuts stung and burned. But now, the cuts didn't sting or burn. They were just there.

Alfred lifted the knife and took more cuts at his arm, slashing away each of his thoughts.

 _"Useless."_

 _"Stupid."_

 _"Worthless."_

"Što vy robicie, amierykanca?" a voice asked.

Alfred turned his head, dropping the knife beside him. He gasped as he saw Belarus standing not too far behind him her narrowed and cheeks stained with tears.

"Nothing, Belarus," he said as he rolled up his sleeve. "I could ask you the same thing."

The blonde crossed her arms and came closer to him. She was in her maid outfit that surprisingly never changed over the many years he had known her.

"I have no reason to answer to you…especially after all that you've done toe Big Brother," she spat. She wiped her eyes gruffly and looked down at her feet. "He would have more time to love me if he weren't so busy dealing with you."

"Look Natalya, I can't deal with you right now," Alfred sighed running his hand through his golden blonde hair. "So you can stay and keep your mouth shut or leave."

Natalya said nothing to this. But, instead she took a seat beside him. She peered down at Alfred bag.

He could feel the weight of her eyes staring at his bag. He prayed that her eyes wouldn't shift to his arm that was bleeding, staining his dress shirt.

The blonde's eyes glanced up at his face for a moment, eyes not betraying any emotions.

Her eyes then shifted to Alfred's arm still bleeding.

"What have you done?" she asked her voice this time with real concern.

"Nothing," he said quickly jerking away his arm from Belarus's line of vision.

She grabbed his arm and yanked his sleeve upward revealing the bloody and mutilated arm. She let out a small gasp and released his arm.

"Amieryka, ty idyjot," she hissed as she got up yanking him up.

"Hey!" he exclaimed. "I kind of need that bag. And where the hell are you taking me?"

She didn't say anything as she continued to drag him away. She paused for a minute, her hand still holding his arm firmly, to pick up his bag.

"Look Belarus, please don't hurt me!" he shouted as she continued to drag him away from the rooftop and away into the nearby elevator.

XXXoooXXX

Belarus ended up dragging Alfred to a bathroom, a women's bathroom.

They passed an assortment of nations from Lithuania to little Sealand who had snuck in once again to the world meeting.

"What happened?"

"Alfred, lad…Belarus, what did you do to him?"

"Amérique?"

"America-san, are you alright?"

And every question, Belarus beat them off with a stare making Alfred appreciate the Belarusian more than ever. He didn't know that one of the people who hated him most would come to be his staunchest defender.

She kicked in the bathroom door revealing Hungary and Belgium at the sinks idly chatting and laughing.

"Everyone out," Belarus commanded.

The pair shuffled out of the bathroom whispering and avoiding the Belarusian's eyes. Belgium looked particularly nervous but, Hungary looked like she was smirking slightly as she passed Alfred.

Hungary whispered as she passed the American, "Have fun you two."

Alfred spun his head around to face the exiting Hungarian. Belarus tightened her hold of his arm causing him to give a small gasp of pain.

"Hey, Natalya, my arm's kind of bleeding here. Ow!" Alfred winced as Belarus finally released her hand.

Belarus didn't apologize but instead went into a nearby stall. She returned wielding a tube of toilet paper.

"Aren't they going to need that in there?" Alfred asked peering awkwardly trying to see the inside of the stall.

"They'll be fine," Belarus commented offhandedly, ignoring his concern. "Now hold still."

He obeyed as Natalya rolled his sleeve up and began to gently wrap layers of toilet paper around his arm. She produced scotch tape from her dress pocket and taped the toilet paper tightly.

"Don't pick at it," she said as finished, watching Alfred's hand go to his bandaged arm. "And don't do anything too excessive with that arm."

They sat there awkwardly for a moment sitting on the cold, tiled bathroom floor. Belarus's hand was still on his arm almost as a comforting gesture.

"Um… thanks, Natalya," Alfred said staring down at the floor.

Belarus nodded, not really paying attention to what he was saying.

"How long have you been doing this?" she asked abruptly startling Alfred.

"What?"

"How long has _this_ been going on?" she asked again gesturing to his bandaged arm.

He sighed. He had been hoping that she would question his arm and that he could pass it off as something else.

"Months," he whispered as he began to blink his eyes rapidly. Were tears beginning to form?

Belarus shook her head and sighed. She looked him right in the eyes and he could feel her staring into his soul.

 _'What is she going to do to me?' Alfred wondered unwanted fear entering his thoughts._

"You're so young," she said sadly. Of course, he was so young. Compared to most of Europe, Alfred was comparatively young. Belarus was there, growing up with Russia and Ukraine. She could recall all her old battles, the ones that put the block between her, her sister, her brother, the Baltics.

Alfred didn't.

"You see everything through human eyes," she mused. "Is it about all those things they say about your country?" He didn't respond. "For you, there is still a fine line between nation and human. Take Arthur and England for example. You see him as both human and nation. But for him and many others, there is no more distinction between nation and human. For England, Arthur is just a mask he puts on."

He took a moment to digest all that she had just said. So, he wasn't hated? Arthur didn't hate him, just England? It was so odd to think of them as the same thing, Arthur and England. But that's how England (or Arthur?) saw himself.

"But you, you still have that youth in vision that many crave," she finished. She paused for a moment and looked up at him. "Know this. You are not hated Alfred. If anything, people are jealous that you still see such hope for the world."

He smiled to himself. Belarus really was just full of surprises, wasn't she? He had never expected to find comfort from a girl who normally would rather slit his throat than help him.

"Thank you, Natalya, really," he said looking her deep in her azure eyes. "This means a lot."

The girl smoothed her dress and coughed, "Yes, well, we do not speak of this event ever, clear? I would rather not have anyone know that I associate myself with you."

He nodded. "Okay, Arlovskaya. You've got my word, heroes' code."

Natalya got up and began to leave causing her dress's skirt to give a full twirl. Her platinum blonde hair swished side to side as she walked.

"Don't worry, Jones," she said a mischievous smile gracing her face. "I won't speak either. They won't find out what we were doing in the _girls'_ bathroom."

And with that she left, leaving Alfred in a small state of panic.

Shit, how was he going to explain that one?

XXXoooXXX

 **AN: Hello my lovelies. Thanks for reading this! This is my first story writing Belarus so, some feedback on how close characterization I was with her.**

 **Anyways, no need to take this seriously. This is just a fun start of summer one-shot and a way to get myself off the Eurovision high I'm currently on. (Says the American who really believes Russia should have won!)**

 **Thanks again and R &R!**


End file.
